


maybe, somewhere

by clytemnestras



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: femslash_minis, F/F, Identity Issues, Key!Dawn, Old Fic Upload, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows most of it's made up, but she likes to think there are some things she crafted all on her own. She likes to think her relationship with Tara is one of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe, somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> originally written 27/1/14

Dawn knows most of it is made up. She knows, and she hates it, and she pretends she doesn't care at all.  
  
But some of it sticks out, all crooked and broken. There are parts of Dawn that the Key doesn't fit.  
  
Like her "crush" on Xander; goofy smiles and immaturity. He hadn't treated her like some dumb kid, and that was _nice_... And sure, she'd always liked him, in a _I-can't-wait-for-you-to-be-here-again_ kind of way. Maybe not in the naked way like he seemed to think.  
  
Like her need to create chemistry with cereals, ice-cream and tacos and endless endeavours into what _didn't_ taste better with cheese.  
  
Like her jealousy of Buffy's cheerleading past even though she hated the crappy excuse of a sport with unrivalled passion. ( _W_ _hat's wrong with real sports, with balls and bats and sneakers? And who thought pom-poms would improve the world in any way?_ )  
  
All that stuff feels hollow and made up, badly scribbled over the oil painting of Dawn Summers with Crayola in Key Green.  
  
She knows most of it's made up, but she likes to think there are some things she crafted all on her own.  
  
She likes to think her relationship with Tara is one of those things.  
  
**  
  
The first time she felt her stomach do that _twisty-churny-flutter_ thing was when Willow came in to Casa Summers, smiling in that psycho way only the nervous and the mentally-challenged can pull off, before stepping aside to reveal a goddess.  
  
Blond hair a cascade curtaining a shy face; blue eyes glittering with purity and something _other_. Something magical.  
  
Tara Maclay stuttered and smiled and Dawn was smitten.  
  
**  
  
She can't say when exactly the crush switched to adoration. Maybe those evenings alone, away from Scooby patrols on Hellmouth streets, watching Miss Kitty Fantastico chasing mice around the dorm. ( _Which, in hindsight may not have been the best plan when the mice ran into the path of a renegade axe._ )  
  
Maybe it was all the times, sat in the Magic Box trawling through ( _not just books, but_ ) compendium after compendium of demons trying to be of any use. And to not get in the way. ( _And to pretend like we're really part of the group and not just the plus ones sipping punch at the table whilst the true Scoobies danced at the Hellmouth High prom._ )  
  
But maybe it was just the long nights, when no one else was home and they lay beside each other, sleeping and dreaming of a better world far far away.  
  
**  
  
Her memories may be spun from pretty little lies, but she does still remember them. And sometimes there are holes in the spaces, the worlds where she's real and where she's not. And Tara, she knows, is that deadbolt holding the spaces shut.  
  
Thumb wars and footsie under the dinner table fell into cuddles, and those into kisses and those into things so wonderful and sweet that she doesn't talk about them in case somehow they're snatched away. The things she love have a habit of doing that.  
  
**  
  
A long time ago, maybe before she was even real, she heard Buffy and Tara talking. It was the days of espionage and cups and string pressed to ears and to bedroom doors ( _the walkie talkies had met the Slayer death grip by then_ ), when spying made the world seem more mysterious and less empty. They grew close that year, her sister and Tara, dead Moms and deadbeat Dads tying two lost girls together.  
  
She heard them talking, whispering, laughing or maybe crying, and her sister's voice go quiet like she was swallowing something tough. "I had this dream once, forever ago. You told me something really important; and I know… I know I don't remember it right, like something _changed_ it." There was a pause, a gap in the speech before Buffy continued. "I lost my friends, and you were there, and you told me to be back before the sun came up, or something. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this."  
  
Dawn could swear she heard Tara smile.  
  
**  
  
So that's why, when their limbs are entangled under bedsheets, skin sweaty, soft and flushed, Dawn kisses her girl's forehead and whispers, "I wouldn't be here without you."  
  
And when Tara replies she wouldn't either, even Dawn doesn't realise how true that is.  
  
( _But I always kinda hoped._ )


End file.
